Page 17 of One Day for a Valet

Head cocked to the side, she addressed her question entirely to Zach. “Why would anyone want to throw stones at birds? You Englishmen and your ridiculous phrases. I will never understand. It’s a good thing I have such a fine young man to teach me.”

The tips of Zachariah’s ears coloured.

Christopher suspected that Sofia’s wink to him had caused him the very same affliction. He touched the shell of one notably warm ear. “I suppose it’s rather macabre either way,” Christopher added.

“Will you treasure hunt with us, Christopher?” Nora looped both hands through the crook of his arm, smiling up at him.

A rag with a painted skull and crossbones held back the mass of dark brown spirals that were forever escaping her plaits. He tucked a curl behind her ear. “If it is not an intrusion on your lesson, I would be delighted. Maybe I can learn a few Italian phrases and improve my mind as well.” He looked to Sofia with eyes as large and imploring as Nora’s.

“We would be happy to add another scallywag to our pirate crew,” Sofia said with only the slightest hesitation.

Nora beamed. “I’ve learned all kinds of things about pirates! We solved a riddle in Italian that led us to this picture of Black Beard.” She showed him a poorly drawn picture of a pirate with maths problems and symbols written beneath it. Neatly scrawled sentences in Italian lined the margins. “And then we followed the clues and ciphers to this map, which brought us to buried treasure in the winter garden!”

“A rum bottle with marbles,” Zach clarified.

“Pirate treasure,” Nora reiterated, enunciating every syllable. She met Zach’s gaze with a look of exasperation before turning back to Christopher. “Zach suggested we combine the answers with what we discovered from clue six about Black Beard’s ship, the Revenge, and now”—she took a great gasping breath of air—“we think there is a plank to walk somewhere! But we still have to figure out where!”

“Nora, I think I’ve figured it out,” Zach said. “It’s mirror script written in Italian and it corresponds to the maths problem in clue number eight.” Before long, both children were bowed over their paper, pencils in hand, quietly arguing over the answer.

“Quite a lesson today, Miss Lioni. This one may be difficult to top.”

“I had excellent tutors, each of whom believed in bringing history and the natural sciences to life. They made mathematics feel practical and useful. It’s exciting to be on this side of education, and it is allowing me to become better acquainted with the children. For instance, even when Zachariah knows the answer, he stays quiet if he thinks Nora might also find the solution. He dotes on her and will ignore his own anxiety if she is the slightest bit uncomfortable and requires his strength.”

Sofia’s keen observations shouldn’t have surprised Christopher. He had no doubt of her clever mind, after all. But still, he found he liked her all the more for the obvious effort she had already invested in getting to know the children. And the way she came alive when she talked about them? Well, Christopher had discovered a very useful cipher of his own … in discussing their education, she had completely forgotten to scowl at him.

Seven

Sofia wandered closer to Zach and Nora as much to check on their progress as to avoid the relaxed camaraderie that had appeared without warning between herself and Christopher, indisputable as the scent of roses all around them.

Offering her no quarter, Christopher followed. “What gave you the idea for a treasure map?”

“What child doesn’t love pirates?” She looked out towards the tree line behind which her brother lurked. Memories from her own childhood bubbled to the surface of her mind, but like the alcohol that ran through Oliver’s blood, they only made her feel empty. “My brother made treasure maps when I was small. I was clever, and he enjoyed trying to outwit me.”

“You’re missing him now.”

“I am.”

“Is he …”

“Dead? No. But lost to me, which is almost worse I think.”

She looked away from the horizon, briefly checking that the children were still working quietly, and then turned to Christopher. He watched her with such unwavering focus that she could not hold his gaze for more than a moment.

“And you? Do you have family?” she asked.

“A sister is all that remains of my relations. She married a good man and I know she is well cared for, but I miss her. I’m only able to see her a few times a year. But I have Gabriel, who is much like a brother.”

“Yes, I’ve wondered about your relationship with the duke. It is rather surprising. Polly said you grew up together?”

“Both my parents worked on the estate, and then later, I worked as a boot boy. When our paths first crossed, Gabe’s brother, David, wasn’t old enough to be an adequate playmate for him, and there were few other options nearby. We reenacted our fair share of pirate games as children, playing in the woods and in the gardens. His parents were often away in town, and they left him to the care of his nanny and tutors. My father taught Gabriel how to fish, and Gabriel taught me how to read. We played in secret for years before the old duke discovered his heir had befriended a lowly boot boy.”

Christopher offered her a rueful smile. “Oh the servants knew, of course, but I think they understood how desperately Gabriel needed a friend. I was nine when the duke discovered that Gabriel had been writing to me during his first year at Eton. He turned my family out without so much as a character.” Christopher stepped closer, the sleeve of his top coat brushing the back of her hand. “When Gabriel ascended to the title, he was young—scarcely more than a child, really—but he sought me out the moment he was able. It was too late for my father, but I’ve remained here ever since. Gabriel is a good man, one of the best I know. He was determined to be different from his father. Violet is remarkably well matched for him. They balance one another.”

Rarely had she asked a question and received such a comprehensive, unguarded reply. In five minutes, Mr Keene had shared more of his life than most people entrusted to a friend over the course of a month's acquaintance. And when he stopped, falling silent again, her lips parted with the desire to ask more.

She lingered in that place of indecision, half of her wanting to hear everything there was to know, and the other half dreading the intimacy that would come with knowing him. Thankfully, the children spared her from further deliberation.

“Miss Lioni! We’ve got it! The stables! We walk the plank in the stables!” Nora shouted. Zachariah smiled indulgently as Nora danced around basking in her triumph.